


Simmer

by yeaka



Series: Rutobuka's Wolf/Bunny AUs [4]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Collars, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/F, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin Oakenshield, Ficlet, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo finds Thorin in an unusual state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simmer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rutobuka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rutobuka/gifts).



> A/N: Based on [Rutobuka’s](http://nastyrutobuka.tumblr.com/) (NSFW) gorgeous [Fem!Baggenshield](http://nastyrutobuka.tumblr.com/tagged/bagginshield) and [Wolf!Thorin](http://nastyrutobuka.tumblr.com/tagged/wolf%21thorin) works~ ♥
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

She can tell something’s wrong the minute she steps through the front door, clicking it tightly shut behind her. The air is thick and hot, but not because of the summer sun, and Bilbo can smell _something_ wafting through, though at first, she’s not sure _what_. It’s stifling, _alluring_ , makes a shiver run through her body. For once, Thorin doesn’t come to greet her, nor call in from the sitting room. Bilbo sets the fresh vegetables from the market on the tabletop. A muffled groan flitters in from down the hall, and it tells her breakfast will have to wait.

She’s already calling, “Thorin?” as she pads across the floor. The noises get louder the closer she gets, but cut off suddenly at the name—she can just imagine Thorin sitting up in bed, dark, downy wolf ears perking up. However majestic Bilbo’s lover is, sometimes she can still be a _dog_ at the heart of it.

She’s lying across Bilbo’s bed when Bilbo opens the door. On her stomach with her knees beneath her, ass up in the air and tail curled back to show it off, Thorin turns her dilated eyes to Bilbo. She has one hand thrust between her legs, the other clutching Bilbo’s nightgown by her face, the sheets all tossed aside and her body trembling, glimmering with sweat. She smells like pure _sex_ : half the stench in the air. The other half, Bilbo thinks, might be _pheromones_ , ripe and wanton. Thorin’s cheeks are pink, and she _moans_ in Bilbo’s direction, tail setting in to wag. The usual dignity seems all out the window. There’s a shallow puddle between Thorin’s shaking legs, the pinkness of her flesh slicked and wanting. Bilbo’s mouth goes dry just looking. She murmurs, “Wh... Thorin...?”

“I think I’m in heat,” Thorin half rasps, half growls, and she tosses her body forward, dragging her heavy breasts across the mattress. She doesn’t wear a stitch of clothing: all hard muscle and sun-kissed skin and dark hair for Bilbo’s hungry eyes. Still a proper hobbit despite her unconventional tastes, Bilbo lifts a hand to her mouth, feeling like she’s going to faint.

She doesn’t at all know what to do. She knew she was taking on a great task when she decided to be with a dwarf, a completely separate race, but the bestial part is even farther removed. She knows, of course, what _animals_ go through, but Thorin isn’t really that. Yet Thorin’s dripping in her own juices, slowly humping the bed and panting, looking both absolutely feral and utterly _desperate_ , helpless, in a way. Bilbo sways on the spot, one hand clutching to her desk for support. 

In Bilbo’s silence, Thorin turns along the bed, crawling on hands and knees, then stumbling right off the mattress, breasts bouncing to hang beneath her, rosy nipples perked and drawing Bilbo’s eye. Thorin comes right to Bilbo’s feet and clambers over them, chiseled thighs parting around them, Thorin’s large hands climbing Bilbo’s legs. They push at Bilbo’s skirt and bunch it up around her waist, then one hand strays down to tug at the delicate front of Bilbo’s lace panties. Bilbo’s effectively pinned against the wall, half from Thorin’s strength and half from her own shock. Growling in frustration, Thorin opens her mouth and tilts forward, holding Bilbo’s bunched skirt in her teeth and using both hands to shove the panties down. They roll across Bilbo’s shaking thighs, and Thorin dips her head lower, tongue running hotly below Bilbo’s stomach. 

Bilbo tries a weak, “ _Thorin_ ,” but gets no more than that. Her stubby fingers thread into Thorin’s silky hair, just between Thorin’s ears. Thorin presses closer, harder, nosing into her and inhaling deeply, breath leaving her skin warm, wet, and tingling. Thorin’s broad tongue laps where it can, swerving this way and that, tracing up and down Bilbo’s quivering folds before pushing inside, prying her open with a deep mewl. 

For a moment, Bilbo’s lost. She tosses her head back against the wall, fisting thick in Thorin’s hair, the stubble of Thorin’s chin tickling her thighs and Thorin’s soft breasts flattening against her legs. Thorin’s probing tongue squirms inside her, pushing ever farther, coaxing her walls open wider and wider. Thorin’s searching lips close around her, suckling hungrily, and Bilbo bucks forward, crying out. Thorin simply holds her still, infinitely stronger, and eats Bilbo out with a fiery vigor, a slew of lewd moans and slurping sounds. Bilbo just _trembles_ , the rest of her too hot in her clothes. 

Before long, Thorin’s buried deep, fucking Bilbo open with stroke after stroke, Bilbo’s juices a steady stream in Thorin’s mouth. She still holds up, dizzy but somehow able to stand, until Thorin shifts and slams forward, humping Bilbo’s leg. She can feel Thorin’s wet entrance grinding into her ankle, Thorin’s fat thighs closing tight around her, Thorin’s whole body wriggling closer. It’s difficult to break out of the spell, but Bilbo knows how copiously Thorin can leak when aroused, and now she seems insatiable—she’s likely drizzling a puddle that Bilbo can’t get around to lick up. So instead, Bilbo reaches out, knowing what she keeps on her desk and finding it at last. Then she buckles forward to wrap a black collar snug around Thorin’s throat—comfortable and custom-made. It gives her a place to tug, forcing her whining lover back. 

Thorin growls, then whimpers, mouth out and chin drizzled and nose wriggling against Bilbo’s stomach. Bilbo steps aside on nearly-useless legs. With a great effort, she drags Thorin to the bed by that collar, not having the wherewithal to fetch the leash. Thorin goes a lot easier when she realizes where they’re headed and scrambles right up onto the mattress. 

Bilbo sucks in a breath and says, as sternly as she can, “Alright, it seems nothing else can be done right now. I’ll fuck you through it, so long as you behave and don’t get a mess all over my nice floors.”

“Anything,” Thorin quickly agrees, hoarse and handsome. She falls right back, spreading her legs in offering and looking up through the peaks of her breasts, her wavy hair in a beautiful pool around her. Bilbo can practically feel the heat coming out of her pussy, lips slick and shuddering. For a moment, Bilbo just _stares_ at her.

Then Bilbo bends to pull a certain box out from under the bed, murmuring to them both, “I suppose now is as good a time as any to try those toys Bofur sent.” Thorin nods enthusiastically, the engraved pendant on her collar bouncing against her skin. Bilbo decides breakfast will have to wait—she’s found something far more appetizing.


End file.
